


one of those nights

by saimami (chaeyas)



Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: (and he gets one), Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Amami Rantaro Needs a Hug, Crying, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff, Freckles, Hugs, M/M, Rain, Showers, Sleepy Cuddles, rantaro has freckles n shuichi loves them!!, they have a cat but that's hardly relevant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28019058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chaeyas/pseuds/saimami
Summary: He feels like he’s running on autopilot as he leaves the room. Something about the lethargic sensation frightens him just a little, and he finds himself approaching the living room balcony in hopes that the chilly nighttime air will drag him back to reality.–––Rantaro is tired and lets his emotions get the better of him. He considers himself lucky to have such a kind partner in Shuichi.
Relationships: Amami Rantaro/Saihara Shuichi
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	one of those nights

**Author's Note:**

> Help I've actually literally been writing this since February ..... I'm not even really in the Danganronpa fandom anymore (still love these boys though<3) How Am I This Incredibly Slow
> 
> But anyway! Hope you enjoy! I feel like I edited this quite haphazardly, so please feel free to lmk if you find any typos or mistakes!

Shuichi’s asleep, Rantaro knows — his breathing had gone soft the moment they’d pulled the blankets over themselves. Rantaro wishes he could let himself drift off so easily. He’s used to being kept awake by his own thoughts. Manageable little things he can suppress just long enough to get some sleep, but tonight it’s no use. Overthinking isn’t even the problem tonight, he just… can’t sleep.

He’s exhausted though; he should have fallen asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. It had been a long, _long_ day. Not a particularly bad one, just… a lot of running errands and trying to be in multiple places at once. Their hour-long lunch outing with Akamatsu and Iruma had been the most relaxing thing either of them had done all day, and with Iruma’s attitude, even that in itself had been a bit of a trip. He has to commend Akamatsu’s patience, he’s sure nobody is a better fit for Iruma than she is.

Needless to say, the only thing Rantaro wants to do now is rest. But each time he tries to relax and close his eyes, they slip back open of their own accord. A sleep mask would likely help his problem, and he’s sure they have one somewhere, but… he doesn’t want to root around for it in the dark, or turn the light on and risk waking Shuichi. 

Rantaro turns his head so he can see his partner. They’re close enough to each other that he can just barely make out long eyelashes in the dark. It’s not uncommon for Rantaro’s attention to end up on Shuichi. Most of the time it’s accidental, too. Force of habit, he supposes. His eyes trace over the gentle slopes of the young man’s cheeks, which have taken on an elegant shape as he’s aged, though somehow they’re still round enough for _cute_ to be a fitting word.

Since they’ve grown out of their teenage years, Shuichi’s skin has become the closest one could possibly get to flawless. More often than not, he hasn’t got marks or blemishes anywhere easily observable. Save for when he’s been crying and his cheeks go blotchy, but should that count…?

Rantaro’s admittedly spent enough time staring at the man’s gorgeous face to know. He’s lucky enough that he’s never had any real complaints about his own complexion, but seeing Shuichi’s so close almost makes Rantaro wish he hadn’t been painted with the obvious freckles that dapple his own nose. 

_Almost._

But they’re something Shuichi has spent copious amounts of time trying, and ultimately failing, to count. He’d even gone so far as to use a (skin-safe, he’d been adamant about that) red marking pen at one point in an exceptional display of persistence, which had been both hilarious and endearing. Rantaro supposes he can’t be too critical of them when they seem to make Shuichi so happy.

Rantaro stares for even longer, hand itching to brush Shuichi’s bangs away from his eyes. He doesn’t try, but he wants to.

Somehow Shuichi looks different when he’s not all here. There’s a still air about him that’s a little eerie when he’s asleep. He’s not usually a very deep sleeper, Rantaro knows from nearly five years of experience, but… When he does sleep well, it’s as if he’s completely unconscious. Sometimes it’s even kind of scary.

Though he seems to have a knack for waking up at just the right times. Well, they both do, really. When Rantaro had caught a bad cold a few months back, it was like Shuichi would awaken and fret at every irregular breath. And Rantato always happens to wake when there’s something wrong with Shuichi.

He supposes they’re simply well-attuned to each other after being so close for so long. Rantaro can only hope his boyfriend doesn’t wake up this time, though. He needs sleep too.

Shuichi’s eyes flicker beneath his lids, and the movement is enough to startle Rantaro into looking away. Normally, he wouldn’t care about getting caught. He’s done it before, watch Shuichi mid-nap or in the early morning hours until he awakens. It’s often followed by Shuichi growing flustered, Rantaro teasing him about his pretty face, and Shuichi teasing him back until they’re both flushed, giggling messes.

But tonight isn’t a good night. Rantaro’s sure if Shuichi were to wake up, he would see straight through Rantaro’s mischievous antics. The last thing he wants to do is give the man more things to worry about.

He closes his eyes in an attempt to sleep for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, but once again, he finds that he cannot. Frustration builds until tears are welling in his eyes, which… comes as a bit of a shock. Rantaro isn’t generally much of a crier. Crying about something as small as not being able to sleep seems a bit… much.

He rolls over. Still, sleep doesn’t come. Instead, he manages to fill the silence in his head with melancholy thoughts.

Not knowing why he’s feeling so down is only causing further irritation. Aside from simply being _tired_ , nothing’s been bothering him today. The helpless feeling of just… _not knowing what’s wrong_ swells in his chest until he feels like he needs to sit up just to breathe properly. All of his pent up emotions are building upon each other, and it’s starting to make him feel sick. 

Ever so slowly, Rantaro slips the sheets off and pushes himself out of bed. He holds his breath the whole time, afraid even the smallest sound might wake the man sleeping next to him. The clock on their bedside table reads one in the morning when he glances at it. They’d lied down to go to bed sometime around midnight. _Goddammit._

He feels like he’s running on autopilot as he leaves the room. Something about the lethargic sensation frightens him just a little, and he finds himself approaching the living room balcony in hopes that the chilly nighttime air will drag him back to reality.

It only partially helps. 

The night is as gloomy as his mood though, and in that regard, it doesn’t improve his state of mind at all. Clouds mercilessly drown the stars overhead, and the slightest hints of rainfall grace his skin. The air smells refreshing and clean, but it’s not a comforting atmosphere. It’s more like the foreboding calm preceding a storm. The moon offers a small amount of light through the clouds, but it grows ever dimmer as the rain gradually picks up. 

Rantaro’s hands find each other in the dark, and he fastens on to the ring on his index finger and spins it slowly. He’s glad he hadn’t taken any of them off before bed; the feeling of fidgeting with the metal against his skin is strangely grounding. 

He leans over the balcony wall as he keeps his hands busy. He can’t see it very well in the poor lighting now, but the expanse of land below harbors a lush forest. On brighter nights, when the moon is full and unobstructed, the leaves almost seem to glow. He and Shuichi have walked the forest’s floor many times since they’d moved to their beautiful home on its outskirts. It’s welcoming and almost whimsical, in a way, complete with a lovely river. One that Shuichi no longer thinks of as particularly _lovely_ , given he’d slipped and fallen in the last time they’d gone out walking. 

Rantaro had, of course, helped him out and offered his coat to warm his boyfriend up, though his initial concern hadn’t kept him from having a laugh about it. Something Shuichi had also been less than pleased about, at the time. He’d even threatened to drag Rantaro in with him, but they’d both known he wouldn’t. 

Shuichi had later gotten his payback when he’d pulled a leafy branch dripping with _cold_ leftover rainwater down over Rantaro’s head, which had definitely come as a shock. Though hearing the other’s beautiful laugh had been quite worth the trouble.

Thinking about it makes the weight in Rantaro’s chest swell, and built-up tears spill down his cheeks uncontrollably when he blinks. They cling to his lashes and blur his vision so much that he can hardly see anything at all. He has to clench his teeth to keep himself from sobbing as well. There’s no one he has to hide from, nothing keeping him from openly crying, other than himself, so he… doesn’t know why he does it.

Maybe he can chalk it up to an old habit. Growing up, he’d gotten used to stifling his emotions around his younger sisters. Not because he didn’t trust them with things like that, of course — he just… never wanted to give them a reason to worry. Not about him. Not when it’s supposed to be the other way around, when he’s supposed to be the one protecting and comforting and caring for them. Logically, he knows a familial relationship is meant to be as much of a two-way street as any other platonic or romantic one, but still.

Something about the idea of causing someone to worry about him so much just doesn’t sit right with him.

He’s not sure his efforts are working though, and his chest aches with the strain. It feels like everything’s suddenly weighing him down at once, though he doesn’t know how to define _“everything”_ in this sense. There’s no way he should be this upset over literally nothing, but telling himself as much doesn’t make him feel any better.

The feeling of warm fingers shyly skirting over the backs of his cold hands is familiar, but sudden enough to startle him. He hadn’t heard or even seen Shuichi come up beside him. Then again, Rantaro hadn’t closed the sliding door, so he supposes _that_ — topped with Shuichi’s fascinating ability to move with a catlike silence — wouldn’t have provided him with much of a warning anyway. 

Rantaro steels himself as best as he can on the spot, holding his breath to hide the stuttering hiccups (ones he hadn’t realized had started up). It makes his chest shake. He’s cried in front of Shuichi a handful of times before, sure, but it’s still something he’d rather not do. 

Shuichi probably cries enough for the both of them anyway. While his emotional strength is incredible now, as it kind of has to be to deal with some of the horrifying things that happen in his line of work, it still doesn’t take a whole lot to get him to tear up. (Cute kitten videos are some of his greatest weaknesses, and yes, Rantaro does use that against him sometimes). It’s not like he’ll cry about everything in front of just anyone, but it happens often enough for Rantaro to wish he could open up and be vulnerable like that too. 

He feels like something’s wrong with him when he cries too much, and he feels like something’s wrong with him when he doesn’t cry enough. There’s no happy medium in his own head, and it makes him feel like shit.

And then there’s Shuichi, someone he _knows_ he can trust and yet he still can’t bear the thought of crying in front of him just because he doesn’t want to make Shuichi sad. Or worried. Especially not when his detective work stresses him out enough for the both of them, sometimes.

He’s almost afraid of what’ll happen when Shuichi opens his mouth — _what if he sounds tired, what if I woke him up, what if he’s feeling down about something too and I’m just making it worse_ — but… Shuichi doesn’t say anything. Not at first. Just mindlessly traces his fingertips across Rantaro’s skin, over the rings on his fingers, over the chipping lilac polish on his nails. 

Rantaro makes the mistake of taking a deep breath. He figures it’ll calm the ache in his chest, which, in that regard, it does help a little. But it’s also audibly tremorous and it’s sure to alert Shuichi, who’s already watching over him with that attentive gaze of his. Shuichi slowly raises his hands, reaching to cup Rantaro’s face and thumb away the moisture below his eyes, moisture that’s not from the drizzling rain.

“Did something happen?” Shuichi asks quietly. He coaxes Rantaro into a position that allows both of them to face each other, not taking his eyes away for so much as a second. 

Some part of Rantaro makes room for the swell of pride he feels when Shuichi is able to maintain the confident eye contact. He’s still no less reserved around those he doesn’t know well, but thanks to his friends, he’s come such a long way from the shy boy who once hid beneath his cap. 

Right now though, Rantaro finds meeting the elder man’s gaze much harder than it should be, especially since he doesn’t know how to respond. He can’t even pinpoint the source of all these emotions in his _mind_ , let alone put it into words.

His chest grows heavier as he shakes his head _no_ between Shuichi’s hands — he’s sure if he tries to speak he’ll start crying again. He hates the way his lower lip quivers in a feeble attempt at keeping himself from doing just that. He can’t help the shaky sound he makes when he inhales, and it’s a dead giveaway that he hasn’t gotten all his tears out yet.

Shuichi makes a sad noise and Rantaro feels himself being pulled forward, _closer_ , until their chests are touching. Exhaustion is the only thing telling his mind to pipe down and accept the embrace, the rest of him is screaming to just _snap out of it_ and to _be okay already_ so Shuichi doesn’t have to worry. That ‘rest of him’ doesn’t win, however, and he lets his head drop to the smaller man’s shoulder like he’s admitting some sort of great defeat.

“Hey. It’s okay if you need to cry.” 

Shuichi’s voice is so soft, so warm, and that alone is enough to make more tears well up. Rantaro brings his hands up to tangle his fingers in the shirt Shuichi’s wearing, _my_ _shirt_ , a fleeting thought takes note. In return, one of Shuichi’s hands strokes up and down the length of his back while the other tangles itself in minty curls.

Fighting back tears is off the menu, suddenly. Rantaro swallows hard as he presses his face into Shuichi’s neck and allows himself to cry for real. Lets himself feel weak and small. Lets himself _not be okay_.

“I know you’ve said you want to protect me before, but don’t neglect yourself. You need protecting too, sometimes.” Shuichi murmurs into his ear. His voice is kind, but it’s also firm. 

Rantaro knows the words are meant to be comforting, but they only make him cry harder. Maybe it’s _because_ they’re so comforting. He clutches at Shuichi’s back like his partner might dissolve into the pouring rain if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. Like they’ll fall apart if either of them let go. And if the grip bothers Shuichi at all, he doesn’t say so.

The sound of the rain pattering even more persistently drowns out the sobbing. He feels bad for keeping Shuichi out here in the downpour with him, but he can’t bring himself to let go. Not when Shuichi’s embrace is so warm. His every movement feels intentional and kind. 

Shuichi seems to have a special way with nonverbal communication. His touches are so precise and gentle. Rantaro’s always been a touch-oriented person around those he trusts, and while Shuichi had been quite the opposite when they’d first met, he’s grown accustomed to it over time. 

_He’s good at hugging._

Rantaro blinks against Shuichi’s neck and feels his own eyelashes graze the skin there. He’s not sure if the shorter man’s poorly suppressed shiver is due to that or the chilling rain soaking into their clothes, but it prompts him to hug Shuichi even tighter, like that’ll do anything to help keep him warm. 

Rantaro promptly decides that he doesn’t mind crying in front of Shuichi. His chest feels heavy and his lungs ache just a little, but getting the weight off his shoulders is incredibly satisfying.

–––

The rain is beginning to let up by the time Rantaro slowly lifts his head from the crook of Shuichi’s neck. He hadn’t noticed in the moment, but bending over like that had left a muted ache in his upper back. They’re both shaking now, he realizes, which is probably thanks to the cold more than anything else.

Shuichi’s grip on him loosens, allowing him to step back if he wants to. Which… Rantaro very much _does not want to_. But they can’t stand out here all night or they’ll freeze to death. 

“Hey. Let’s go inside, yeah?” Shuichi says. Rantaro thinks he feels himself nod. Shuichi clasps Rantaro’s hand gently in his own, and before Rantaro even realizes they’ve moved, the sliding door is closing behind them.

Shuichi leads them into the dimly lit bathroom and lets Rantaro lean against the counter while he goes to turn on the shower. Rantaro makes a questioning noise in the back of his throat when Shuichi removes the shirt he’d borrowed. 

“C’mon. This’ll warm you up and make you feel better.” He says as he approaches to pull at the hem of Rantaro’s shirt. He hesitates and looks up at Rantaro, as if asking for permission. It’s a kind gesture, and Rantaro feels his heart melt all over again. He takes off Rantaro’s rings too, carefully, like both the accessories and his fingers are precious things. It’s not something he needs to do, as the metals are more or less resistant to water damage, but Rantaro revels in the tenderness of the actions.

Once they’re both undressed, they bask in the warmth of the shower water on their skin; it’s nothing like the bone-chilling rain they’d come inside from. The heat feels nice, it’s comforting. Like a full-body hug. Unfortunately though, they can’t aimlessly stand here forever. Neither their skin nor their water bill would appreciate that.

When Rantaro turns his back to Shuichi so he can reach for the shampoo, he feels tentative lips ghosting over his shoulder blades in sweet little kisses. One hand reaches to take the bottled soap from Rantaro’s own, and a lid pop later, two are working fluffy suds into his wet hair.

It feels nice. Shuichi is attentive, careful to make sure he isn’t pulling too hard or dripping soap into Rantaro’s eyes and ears. Rantaro rests his own hands on the tile wall in front of him to keep himself from falling over when he closes his eyes. 

Usually when they shower together, it’s the other way around. Rantaro will wash Shuichi’s hair and style it in silly spikes, and they’ll laugh until they have to hold on to each other just to keep from slipping on the watery floor.

He hopes Shuichi’s arms aren’t growing too tired, Rantaro would hate to place yet another burden on his partner tonight. He opens his eyes when he hears the _plip plopping_ of soap hitting the ground. The warmth of the steam and the sound of the dripping water are both comforting and a little refreshing.

The rain, no matter how much they both love stormy weather, had certainly put a dent in his mood tonight. This feels so much better.

Unbeknownst to Shuichi, Rantaro begins collecting the excess suds melting down his shoulders. His partner is doing what he can to help, and Rantaro appreciates it endlessly. But he doesn’t want Shuichi to feel down on his account. He takes the other by surprise when he turns around to present his work. 

Soap foam covers the length of his jawline and unceremoniously drips from his chin in an awkward makeshift beard, and he’s careful not to let the spray from the showerhead wash it away before Shuichi sees. The gesture startles a laugh out of him, and that alone is enough to make Rantaro smile again. 

They spend the remainder of their time flicking bubbles at each other and trying not to slip in the aftermath. And once they’ve rinsed off and doused the water, they map silly doodles and sweet messages in the fog of the shower door. 

Without the heat of the water and steam, it grows cold quickly — they find themselves wrapped up in towels to keep warm as Shuichi drags Rantaro to their bedroom for nightwear. 

–––

Rantaro turns his face into Shuichi’s shirt. Well, actually it’s another one of Rantaro’s shirts, but it smells like Shuichi. It’s warm and grounding, like sweet – though not sickeningly so – herbal tea under the jasmine body wash they’d shared. 

They’re finally curled up in their ridiculous nest of blankets once again, Shuichi’s thigh serving as a surprisingly comfortable pillow (or rather, it would be surprising, had they never lied together like this before), with only the dim orange of the bedside lamp and Shuichi’s childhood cat to keep them company. 

Their kitty’s soft purring brings life to the otherwise still air, and briefly, Rantaro wonders if Shuichi had already fallen back asleep. His position can’t possibly be comfortable; if he’s propped up against the wooden headboard all night, surely he’ll wake up with a sore back. His silence, while not exactly strange, goes on for just long enough to make Rantaro look up. Shuichi’s staring at something just past Rantaro’s head, looking thoughtful. Definitely not sleeping.

As he’s ready to turn his head back again, he hears a soft, “Do… do you want to talk about it?” 

Shuichi’s voice is quiet, and he almost sounds… small, uncharacteristically so. Even when he’d been that timid little kid back in high school, he hadn’t been afraid to coax Rantaro into opening up to him then. Rantaro studies Shuichi’s face searchingly. He doesn’t look anxious or anything of the sort now, just concerned (and beyond that Rantaro’s sure he can detect the masked sleepiness). That must be it.

Rantaro can’t say he hadn’t been expecting the question at some point, be it tonight or in the morning when they wake, but feeling better unfortunately doesn’t help him understand what had happened in the first place. 

“Sorry. That was kinda pathetic of me, huh?” He gives an ingenuine laugh instead, choosing to try and dodge the question entirely.

“Stop.” Comes Shuichi’s immediate reply. 

His eyes are on Rantaro now, and one could mistake this for him being angry if his warm expression didn’t betray his tone. _Right._ There’s no way Shuichi would fall into that trap, and he almost feels guilty for even making the attempt.

“Don’t say that, you’re not pathetic.” Shuichi adds, softer now. He goes quiet for a moment, still gazing down at Rantaro like he’s looking for something. For once, Rantaro can’t tell what he’s thinking. 

“I’m not sure if this is the case, so correct me if I’m wrong, but… it’s okay to not know why you got so upset,” he says slowly as he thinks through what he wants to say. Rantaro shouldn’t be surprised at how close that hit. He knows he’s far from an open book, but Shuichi’s always been an amazing reader. 

Apparently Rantaro’s continuous silence speaks loud enough for him, because the expression on Shuichi’s face is knowing. Like he already understands. It seems as though he always does, somehow.

“Sometimes you just… have to cry, right? It’s normal. You’re tired, I know that much.” Slim fingers comb drying bangs away from Rantaro’s eyes. “Maybe you’re stressed too. It’s not uncommon for people to stress without even realizing until they feel overwhelmed. That’s definitely happened to me before.”

It’s easy to forget that despite Shuichi not being confident in his ability to talk to people like this, he’s still articulate and smart about it. The look on his face now is contemplative, as if he’s trying to fit puzzle pieces together. Rantaro stares into the shirt draped loosely across Shuichi’s chest.

“Yeah…” he murmurs after a moment, “maybe that’s it.” He looks back up at Shuichi, who suddenly looks considerably tired. Rantaro feels bad for keeping him up so long. 

Without another word, he moves to his own pillow so Shuichi can lie down as well.

“Want me to turn the light off?” Shuichi asks. Rantaro slowly shakes his head. Despite the newfound drowsiness setting in, he wants to see Shuichi for just a little longer before they fall asleep. Shuichi doesn’t have to know that though, of course. He mercifully listens without question anyway, and simply slides down the headboard until his head hits the pillow as well. He offers a sweet smile as one of his hands reaches for Rantaro’s face. 

One of the many things Rantaro will never, _ever_ get over, is how beautiful Shuichi is. Even now, looking sleepy with only the backlighting of the salt lamp behind him to create an orange glow outlining his hair.

Content for now, Rantaro turns his head toward the ceiling and lets his eyelids rest as Shuichi’s soothingly cool fingers trace over his cheek. He’s not quite asleep, but he feels like he’s getting there.

Shuichi’s tapping is getting oddly methodical, though, and it’s throwing him off a little.

Rantaro opens his eyes and turns his head ever so slightly, hearing a tiny little sigh as he does. Shuichi appears to be searching Rantaro’s face, and Rantaro breathes an amused little snicker when he realizes what Shuichi’s doing.

“Are you counting them again?” Rantaro can’t help the small laugh that bubbles up when Shuichi averts his eyes with a subdued frown. 

“You moved. I’m sure I was close that time, I could’ve at least had one side done by now.” He complains, glancing back up at Rantaro through long lashes. The pout he’s wearing is endearing and Rantaro wants to kiss it right off his face. He doesn’t, but he _really_ wants to.

“Sorry ‘bout that. How many’d you get to?” He asks instead, just to humour his boyfriend. Shuichi mutters something completely unintelligible, but Rantaro’s sure he hears the word _pest_ somewhere in there, and he can’t help but smile. 

He reaches to brush a few locks of Shuichi’s damp bangs behind his ear, and the silver ball stud earring that’s there reflects the dim lamp light. It’s the only piercing he’s gotten thus far, Rantaro had done it for him when they were in high school. 

Shuichi moves in closer and rests his head on Rantaro’s chest. It’s a little cold from his drying hair, but not uncomfortably so. Rantaro tilts his chin down just enough to press a kiss to the top of Shuichi’s head.

“I love you so much, baby.” Rantaro mumbles into dark hair. He doesn’t have to look at Shuichi to know that he’s probably blushing. Words tend to fluster him more than actions with the same meaning, especially with pet names peppered in. Rantaro loves the effect it still has on him, even after all this time.

“I love you too,” Shuichi says quietly, fingers lightly tracing shapes on Rantaro’s chest. 

A haze of sudden sleepiness draws Rantaro in as they lie there in a comfortable silence. He vaguely registers the pale glow of the salt lamp they’d forgotten to turn off, but ultimately pays it no mind. Instead, he allows himself to give in to a peaceful sleep.

If he awakens to the feather-light tapping of careful fingertips roaming over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose in the late hours of the sunshiny morning (once again), he’s careful not to give himself away. After all, it certainly wouldn’t be nice to make Shuichi lose count yet again now, would it?

**Author's Note:**

> Tysm for reading!! I don't think I've written something with so little dialogue or conversation before... but hopefully that's not a bad thing? :]
> 
> Again, if you noticed any mistakes, please tell me! I don't find it nit-picky or rude at all, I promise it's very helpful to me<33


End file.
